The Rose Bud
by jakela
Summary: Everything else faded away. It was just their voices and the rose.


The Rose Bud

A/N: The usual disclaimers. Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

John Reese chortled as he approached the rendezvous point. Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Occasionally he and Finch liked to compete to see who could complete a specific task the quickest – breaking into an apartment, planting a bug, installing surveillance cameras, other illegal activities where speed was of the essence. The loser bought lunch.

Once Reese remarked since he received a salary from Harold, when he lost a bet, he was really paying with Harold's money.

Finch shrugged. It's the competition, Mr. Reese, he said, not the prize.

Spoken like a billionaire.

They decided to up the competition tonight by not only seeing who could complete the task, but also who could reach the rendezvous point first. Since Harold moved slower than Reese, his task was much closer to the meeting place.

Reese had saved precious minutes sliding down a laundry chute that had shown up on the drawings at the city planning office as inoperative. He then hitched a ride on a slow moving van, clinging to the back door, nimbly leaping off when it stopped at a traffic light. As he stood outside the park waiting for Harold, he decided to call Joss Carter.

He didn't have any reason to call her, but he knew that she often stayed up late finishing some household task.

"Carter." Her voice sounded distracted.

"Busy, Detective?"

"Actually, yes. I was sleeping."

Shit. "Joss, I'm sorry. I'll –"

"S'okay…I fell asleep on the couch." He heard her mute the television. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I… just wanted to talk." Great, first I wake her up, now I sound like a stalker, Reese thought.

"Hold on." A click, then footsteps. Two clunking sounds, then a soft creak. "Okay, talk."

Joss was lying in bed. Images of her in various pieces of lingerie floated across his mind.

"You still there?" She yawned.

Maybe she slept in the nude. "Huh…Yeah, I'm here."

"Sounds like _you_ need to lie down for a while. Where are you?"

Reese cleared his throat. "Just outside Beardsley Park." Beardsley Park was one of the five private parks* in Manhattan. Entrance required a hefty fee and a key.

"It's supposed to have a beautiful rose garden. Should I expect to find some perp tied to a trellis tomorrow morning?"

"Not yet, Detective."

"Talk," Joss said again, and her voice was soft. "Tell me," he knew she was casting about for something that wasn't off limits, "about a case I wasn't involved with."

Slowly he began to tell her about a recent case. As he spoke, he noticed a rose bud peeking through the garden's wrought iron fence. It was dark red, with a hint of pink at the tips of the petals.

Reese reached out, touched it, his long fingers savoring its plumpness. He began to tease the bud open, sliding his fingers along the velvety edges.

"Tell me more," she whispered.

He caressed one petal at time. The bud seemed to shiver, as if it yearned to, but was afraid of giving up its secrets.

"Go on," she whispered.

Everything else faded away. It was just their voices and the rose.

The scent was intoxicating, drawing him closer. He leaned forward and as his lips touched the bud, it suddenly opened wide, as if it had been waiting for his kiss. He ran his tongue inside, tasting its sweetness.

Joss sighed. He felt a tremor run through him.

They both were silent for a long time.

Finally Joss said, "Goodnight, John." Her voice was even softer, as though they were inches instead of miles apart.

"Goodnight, Joss." They hung up.

The sounds of the city slowly came back. Reese heard the sound of ungainly footsteps. Finch.

"You seem to be losing your touch, Mr. Reese. That's two times in a row I've beaten you."

"What are you talking about, Finch, I've been here for fifteen minutes."

"Here, but not at the rendezvous point." Finch pointed up to an elaborately carved archway. "If you recall, we agreed to meet at the Beardsley Park _gate_. You seem to be," his eyes twinkled under the glare of the streetlamp, "about six feet away."

Reese shook his head. Finch was right.

As they walked back towards the library, Finch said, "Fifteen minutes – I hope you found something productive to do with your time."

"Actually, Finch, I stopped to smell the roses."

"Hmmm, I supposed we could all do a little bit more of that."

Reese smiled. "I plan to."

A/N: *New York City has a couple of private parks. The film _Notting Hill_ featured a scene where the leads played by Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant break into a private park in London.


End file.
